


Beneath Her Skin

by Shiverslightly



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Shiro (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Comfort, Demisexual Keith (Voltron), F/F, Fem Keith (Voltron), Fem Shiro (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Genderswap, Getting to Know Each Other, Guilt, Happy Ending, Lies, Secret Identity, background Allurivan, femsheith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiverslightly/pseuds/Shiverslightly
Summary: The day Shiro’s brother dies, everything changes.“Altea needs you,” her father says.You have no choice,he doesn’t have to.From then on, she’s no longer Shiro. She’s Ryou. No one knows outside the family and a few trusted advisors, but none of them breathe a word.For Ryou is set to marry.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 105
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	Beneath Her Skin

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Sheith Prompt Party](https://twitter.com/sheithparty)!
> 
> My prompt was: Fem!Sheith royalty AU, where Shiro is replacing her dead brother as Keith's fiancé in a political marriage, taking his identity. They are super close and Shiro is afraid that revealing her identity will destroy the alliance.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this and I'd like to say a special thanks to [Gremlin](https://twitter.com/boggremlin) for being an awesome beta! If you have some time I would highly recommend checking out their [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatocages/pseuds/bog%20gremlin)
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

The day Shiro’s brother dies, everything changes.

Their kingdom is in chaos. At least that’s what her father says as he forces her to transform. 

“Altea needs you,” he says. _You have no choice,_ he doesn’t have to.

Paralyzed with grief and shocked at the calculated way her parents can swap one child for another, Shiro can do little else but sob into her hands as she changes her shape. Shoulders broadening, legs stretching. She grows until her mother gasps and her father quietly raises a hand, thin-lipped and nodding once, as Shiro stares at the face of her not yet buried brother looking back at her in the mirror.

From then on, she’s no longer Shiro. She’s Ryou.

She attends her own funeral. Her parents covering up her brother’s death and spreading word that _Shiro_ had passed instead. It’s surreal and overwhelming. People she hardly knows clutching at her hands and offering words as empty as their gesture. She sits beside her parents as Altea’s crown prince and feels her soul start to break with every tick she lives in secret. No one knows outside the family and a few trusted advisors, but none of them breathe a word.

For Ryou is set to marry.

****

“I look ridiculous!” Shiro cries and throws herself into the nearest chair. Overdramatic and not giving a damn.

“Oh hush,” Allura says beside her. Her slender fingers holding on to the jacket Shiro’s shrugged out of. “You looked regal.”

Shiro snorts, motioning at the ruffled collar of her large and poofy shirt. It rises from her shoulders to frame around her neck like the cone they put around a clanmurel’s head to stop them from licking a wound.

Sighing, Allura folds the jacket over her arm. “Okay,” she concedes. “On Ryou it looks a bit… pompous, but if you were able to go as _yourself,_ you’d pull it off.”

“Allura,” Shiro murmurs. Her shoulders sag and she lets her head fall backwards. The tight collar at her throat suddenly feels like a noose.

Allura had been the only one in Shiro’s corner. Waiting until the king and queen had grieved before voicing her concern that they’d made a mistake. It was, of course, too little too late. But the fact that she had tried at all, or even continued to try after all this time, solidified her as the most important person in Shiro’s life. Her only person, really.

Of course it was lonely, debilitatingly so at times. A part of Shiro thinks the only reason she even speaks to her family at all is because the fear of being left with no one is greater than the hurt they continue to cause. The difference, though, is minimal.

“I know, I shouldn’t bring it up but—” Allura huffs at the hair that frames her face, hands flailing helplessly. “I wish things were different for you.”

Opening an eye, Shiro stares through the fingers that belong to her brother. Thicker and stubbier than her own. Made to look like skin and flesh instead of the alloy of her prosthetic. “Me too,” she whispers with a longing so deep it cuts to the bone.

Silence with Allura is never awkward. When Shiro wallows in resigned defeat, she swears she can actually hear the gears turning in Allura’s head. The determination that woman has is truly something to behold. Shiro once watched Allura single-handedly negotiate a treaty between the Shedites and Walixians, two peoples that had been feuding for hundreds of years, and spun it so both parties believed they had the better deal.

“You should’ve been princess,” Shiro muses with an ache that’s far too real.

“Can you imagine?” Allura asks, oblivious. She bats her eyes and adopts the air of someone very important, _“Princess Allura.”_ She holds it for a tick before snorting and making a face. “I think I’ll stick to Royal Advisor. Now come.”

Shiro groans as Allura pulls her from her seat, waiting until Shiro spreads her arms and allows her to fit the jacket back upon her shoulders, royal blue and highlighted in gold piping along the lapels. The Altean crest sits square above Shiro’s heart. Looking down, Shiro fiddles with the buttons and struggles to keep herself from curling in.

“Don’t worry Shiro. They’re going to love you.”

“Ryou,” Shiro corrects, catching Allura’s eye. “They’re going to love Ryou.”

Allura squeezes her shoulder.

****

The Galran delegation is set to arrive at any moment and Shiro makes her way to her parents' side in the arrival bay with mounting dread. Nearing, she draws their attention and forces herself not to twitch beneath their stares.

Her mother’s face alights with joy. “Ryou, you look wonderful!” she exclaims.

Though Shiro smiles, inside she wilts. She can’t remember the last time her mother called her by her real name.

Her father is more critical, assessing Shiro with an eye that shows neither approval nor displeasure. She imagines him dissecting her, searching for all the faults in her disguise. Her skin not quite dark enough, her freckles slightly off. Anything that might alert the emissaries — _her future family_ — to their deception.

The marriage has been arranged for as long as Shiro can remember. Touted by her father, and even Allura, as a much-needed union between the distant planets of Altea and Diabazaal. Being situated on opposite sides of the Sintinthian System, their joining would be viewed as the final piece of an intergalactic coalition that rulers before had only dreamed of. Altea was once a superpower; it’s no secret that this alliance could bring it to such glory again. In the face of that, arguing that arranged marriages were an antiquated practice of little value to the modern galaxy had not gone over well for Shiro. But the idea of lying to her future spouse — let alone an entire goddamn _solar system_ — about who she is, is enough to make her sick.

She knows the Galran heir has met her before. She’s talked to her and laughed with her and, on one memorable occasion, even snuck into the kitchens of Olkarion’s palace late at night with her. It was years ago, and one could hardly call them friends, but they had at least been _something_. More than once as Shiro grew older, she found herself thinking of the young Galra with knobbly knees and a propensity to bite her tongue with her fangs when she got too excited.

Shiro’s mother looks like she’s about to speak and Shiro braces herself for another lecture. She knows this is important, years of training leading up to this moment with every part of her parents hopes and dreams drilled into her. But a ship appears as a dot in the sky and her father demands that they stand at attention as the large Galran cruiser makes its descent through the layers of Altea’s atmosphere. Gliding through the air, sleek and seamless, all it takes is a matter of moments before they’re touching down and Shiro does the mental calculations on their speed of entry. It’s incredibly impressive.

The Galra have not visited Altea in hundreds of deca-phoebs and it appears they’ve spared no expense to do so now. What Shiro thought would be the Empress and her family, a few advisors and maybe a general or two turns out to be almost an entire fleet of dignitaries, politicians, consultants and what appears to be most of the royal guard, an organization wrapped in mystery, the Blade of Marmora. One of the tallest Galra she’s ever seen, and definitely a member of the Blades, departs first. The wrappings of his navy blue and black uniform indicate his senior rank. He stops in front of Shiro’s family and their own palace guards and bows.

“Your majesties.”

With a voice rich and authoritative, he speaks to Shiro’s parents in Altea’s native language as his eyes quickly scan their surroundings. More of the Blades fan out behind him, not in a threatening manner but clearly protective. “It is an honour for our nations to meet once again.”

Shiro’s father inclines his head and behind him Shiro catches sight of Allura looking almost shy and tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Her cheeks bloom in the subtlest shade of pink as she watches the Blades and Shiro wonders what’s got her acting so strange when she distantly hears their leader say, “May I present our Empress and her daughter, the monarchs of Diabazaal,” and then Shiro’s turning back and coherent thoughts are quickly vanishing because the loveliest vision she’s ever seen is walking towards her.

At first Shiro thinks she must be the Empress, Queen Krolia’s reputation as a fierce and striking woman proceeding her, but at a closer look she’s much too young, too _familiar_.

It’s — Shiro thinks as her heart hammers against her chest — _Princess Keith_.

It has to be. The long, dark head of coal black hair not common amongst the Galra. And yet she looks completely different than Shiro remembers. She’s grown and lean and _built._ No knock knees or awkward sprawling limbs, this woman is brazen and bathed in gold. Every bit as fierce as the Empress Shiro vaguely registers walking beside her. She’s wrapped in a suit of stunning dark fabric, not unlike the uniform of a Blade but with a longer coat that sweeps to the floor as she moves with a grace that’s temptingly lithe. Pieces of her hair fall lightly around her angular face while the rest is plaited in intricate braids that reach below her shoulders. She looks at Shiro with eyes that swim in intelligence and tunnel directly through Shiro’s centre of gravity.

A sharp elbow digs into Shiro’s side and Shiro finds that she’s gaping. Unaware that the princess has already spoken and not just because she called her Ryou.

She’s beautiful up close. So stunningly captivating that Shiro can hardly breathe. Where once her skin was soft and lavender now it’s a deep and glossy plum. Hardened with muscle fit for a warrior that Shiro would gladly be conquered by. It takes all of Shiro’s strength just to swallow.

“I-I’m sorry?” she stutters.

Keith frowns and Shiro’s stomach swoops when her eyes get drawn to her mouth. “I said that I am honoured, Prince Ryou.”

Shiro’s stuck on the way her lips move, her Cupid’s bow thinned and turned down. The pink of her tongue peaking through when she talks.

As Shiro continues to stare stupidly, Keith adds a little hesitantly, “To see you again, I mean.”

There’s the clearing of someone’s throat and it’s not quite enough to snap Shiro out of her daze but it helps. Shiro blinks, eyes shooting up to Keith’s that are now furrowed in uncertainty.

“Me too,” Shiro blurts. Heat quickly spreads from her collar and up as she realizes she practically shouted that. “I mean, I am too… uh, honoured that is. To meet you?”

It occurs to Shiro that she’s entirely clueless about Ryou’s previous interactions with Keith. As children more than several years apart in age, Ryou was usually off with their parents and other advisors, while the younger kids, such as Shiro and Keith, were left to their own devices during meetings of diplomacy. Shiro can’t remember ever seeing the two of them together.

Keith tilts her head. Eyes so intently searching Shiro’s in confusion that Shiro swears she can feel them rooting through her mind. “I guess it has been deca-phoebes.”

Shiro is pinned by her stare, too frightened to move and fuck up further. In fact, she barely breathes. Keith takes her time regarding her, one of her fangs slipped out and pushing into her bottom lip. “I was sorry to hear of your sister’s passing. She must be missed greatly.”

Whatever Shiro’s expecting to hear, it’s not this. Keith’s words stop her short. She falters in place. “Oh, I—” Her mind blanks, her tongue thick and uncoordinated. “That’s… thank you.”

Keith’s ears, which until now had been pointing upwards not unlike a Terran species of cat, drop to the back of her head and she casts her gaze down. “I have made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

She sounds so upset with herself that Shiro rushes to appease. “No, no it's not like that. It’s just...” She struggles. _She must be missed_. Is she though? It sounds like the right thing to say but Shiro’s honestly not sure if she is. To most she’s probably nothing more than a deceased princess. One less person to bow to as they walk around the palace. “No one really talks about her,” Shiro finishes honestly.

Keith looks up with a startled expression. “That’s awful.” She jerks as though she only just stops herself from lashing out. “The princess is worth remembering.”

Something swells in Shiro. A rising sensation that fills her lungs and almost chokes her. “Oh,” she breathes, shocked at the intensity with which Keith speaks. There’s no way for Shiro to reply that won’t end in blubbering but her lips move and she’s fighting for air when her father’s voice booms right over her shoulder.

“Ryou, we should allow our guests to get settled. You will see her highness at dinner tonight.”

Immediately Shiro freezes, or flinches really. It’s a harsh interruption to her quiet crumbling. Somehow, she’s closer to Keith than before. So close she sees the sweep of each individual eyelash as Keith blinks and hurries to lean back. Awkwardly, Shiro grasps the back of her neck like it might shield them from her father’s stare. The heat from earlier rising all the way to her ears. “Um, thank you, princess.”

“Just Keith, please,” Keith says as she glances over her shoulder to see where the Galran delegation is heading.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers in reverence. As sweet on her tongue as the little smile Keith gives before turning for good.

Shiro watches until she’s out of sight, winded like she’s been punched in the stomach and thinks that metaphorically she has. Her dumbness lasts only a second before a flood of horror crashes over at what a spectacular disaster she is. Her only saving grace is that her parents have already left the room and Allura looks much too preoccupied talking with the leader of the Blades to tease. Shiro hurries from the bay with plans to either suffocate or scream herself hoarse into her bedding and prays that her embarrassing interaction has gone unnoticed.

****

It didn’t.

****

The next day, after Allura had ribbed Shiro endlessly and been so distracting at dinner that Shiro had had no chance of speaking with Keith besides cursory glances and a few polite words, Shiro goes to the gardens. There’re more important things to be done, surely, but if Shiro wants to survive any more encounters with Keith without acting like a complete fool, she needs to get a hold of herself. And, well, she’s always loved gardens. 

Particularly this one, lying almost hidden in a courtyard that’s overlooked by wings of the palace that rarely get used. It’s tiny and not exactly well-kept but that’s why she loves it. The overgrown hedges are twisted with flowers that climb their branches and bloom from the beds of their roots. She sits in the center of it without a blanket or seat to stop the grass from staining her pants though worries like that are far from her mind. Today they’ll be setting a date for the wedding which, until now, had always seemed so far. Some nightmare looming in the distance. The reason Shiro lost _her_ life all those years ago.

It bothers her that she never knew what Ryou thought about the whole thing. The two of them had been close but not _tell-me-all-your-secrets_ close. They’d been too far apart in age, Shiro thinks. Seven years hardly seems like much now but when they were growing up it’d been enough. Shiro was just learning how to read when Ryou was off learning how to rule. Only just toddling around the garden she sits in now while Ryou had been off in the training grounds learning how to fight and string a bow. Afterwards he’d always come and sit with her, but they never talked of anything important. Mostly he just tried to make sure Shiro didn’t fall headfirst into the patch of vrillion roses with their poisoned three-inch thorns. He’d always felt more like a protector than a friend which wasn’t bad, it just didn’t give Shiro much to go on now. She likes to think he’d be horrified by what she’s being made to do, though.

She sighs, throwing her head back to gaze at the sky, when she hears a small noise just behind her. Turning lazily, she suspects it’s Allura come to drag her off to some meeting but instead it’s Keith, dressed down in a simple black shirt with navy tights that cling to her legs. She looks caught out and for a terrifying moment Shiro fears she’s let her glamour fall, as sometimes happens when she’s deep in thought, but a quick look at her body says otherwise.

“Oh, prince—ah, _Keith_. H-hi!” Shiro stutters, rising to her feet in a flustered scramble, brushing bits of grass and earth from her clothes as she goes.

Keith keeps her eyes low, pinned somewhere on Shiro’s chest. The warmth of the sun lightly flushing her cheeks. “Prince Ryou. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just, uh… you know…” Contemplating life. Mourning my dead brother whom I now impersonate. “Um, what brings you here?”

“My mother said I should find you.” Keith looks... uncomfortable. Her gaze still on Shiro but not exactly _on_ her. She shifts her weight to the side and looks as though she’s ready to turn and sprint at any second. Shiro sympathizes.

“Yeah.” She tries to smile. “I guess we should probably… talk.”

“Yeah,” Keith echoes but doesn’t move.

She’s even lovelier in sunshine. Her soft hair shining and revealing colours previously unseen. It’s not just black but violet, burgundy, crimson. A riot of colours that gleam in the woven knots of her hair like an oil slick tracing the path of her simple braid. Keith tugs on the end of it. Her deft fingers grasping tighter than Shiro thinks must be comfortable.

“This is weird,” she finds herself blurting. “Right?”

The relief that washes over Keith’s face is palpable. She drops her braid and wipes both hands against her sides. “Yes. It is,” she breathes.

Her mouth twitches with the slightest tick upwards and Shiro copies it. Motioning for Keith to join her but freezing when she realizes it’s not exactly appropriate to ask a princess to sit in the grass. Keith, though, takes the invitation without pause, stepping forward and plopping down like it’s perfectly normal to do so even while her body’s still coiled tight. A little shy and a lot uncertain.

Another thing Shiro sympathizes with. Her heart thundering so loud in her ears it’s a wonder that Keith can’t hear it too. She sinks to her knees, careful to keep the space between them lest Keith see the beads of sweat that start to drip from her temples.

“So…” Shiro starts, casting around for some sort of opening, but honestly, what are they even supposed to say here? “How, um, are you? Today.”

From the wince Keith gives, Shiro knows she's missed the mark. How is she? Really Shiro? It takes too long for Keith to answer, quietly and with, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Good. That’s, ah, good.” Good, good, good, good. “This has probably all been a lot for you.”

Keith hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything, picking instead at the weeds beneath her legs.

She seems younger like this. A closer representation of the Keith that Shiro remembered. Still unfairly pretty, otherworldly really, and it’s crazy that Shiro hadn’t noticed it before. But with the way she sits, her back rigid and hands balled up at her sides, it’s easy to see that she’s also just a girl. One who's been taken from her home and presented to a boy she barely knows as some sort of prize. Shiro wants to talk with her about the injustice of it. Wants Keith to know that she’s so much more than a pawn in the political agenda of their parents. But would that comfort her? Or would it, like it does Shiro, simply remind her that whatever greatness she may have been destined for is now forever out of reach. In the end it hadn’t mattered how hard she worked or trained for something. This was always going to be it.

She doesn’t say any of that though. “I’m, uh, sorry I wasn’t at the palace,” she says instead. “I swear I wasn’t hiding or anything. I just… come here sometimes whenever I need to—”

“—Think?” Keith finishes for her, surprisingly.

Shiro smiles ruefully. “Yeah.”

Clearing her throat, Keith turns a bit to face Shiro. Her pretty eyes looking up through the fringe of her bangs. “You share this with your sister.”

Shiro’s lost in violet pools. “Sorry?”

“The princess,” Keith clarifies, “Shiro. From what I remember, she was always in the gardens too.”

It’s the second time Keith’s brought up Shiro in as many days. They’d talked at summits, sure, but Shiro had never imagined she’d left any sort of lasting impression. “You remember her?”

Keith’s head tilts in a gesture Shiro suspects means she’s confused. “Yes, of course. I—” She bites her lip. Her train of thought cut off so fast that Shiro has to ask. 

“What?”

“No,” Keith shakes her head. Spots of pink blossoming against her skin. “It’s nothing.”

“No, please,” Shiro breathes, a lot more desperate than she means to be. But she wasn’t lying when she told Keith that no one talks about her. After years of impersonating her brother you’d think that someone, _anyone,_ would have asked about her by now. How can it be that Keith is the first? “What were you going to say?”

“I…” Keith’s neck is fully flushed now. As are her cheeks and even the base of her ears. The sun at full strength by now. “I used to… follow her.”

But— “What?!”

Keith darkens further, ducking her head and Shiro really just squawked that didn’t she? For her part, Keith sounds more embarrassed than defensive when she quickly explains. “There weren’t many kids my age at the delegations. I didn’t want to bother her so… I would follow her instead.” She glances up to see if Shiro’s looking and immediately jerks her eyes away when she sees that she is. “I would often find her in gardens,” she whispers.

Shiro wracks her brain to remember ever seeing Keith behind her. It’s true that no matter where they were Shiro would always look for a patch of green — or blue or pink, or whatever colour the vegetation of a planet might have been. She mostly just remembers those times as playing alone. Picking flowers, climbing trees, or just lying in the grass to look up at the varying skies. She would’ve loved to have had a playmate then, and she thought she’d always been friendly to Keith.

“You should’ve talked to her,” she says. “I bet she would’ve liked having a friend with her.”

Keith gives a shrug. “I am not the best at making friends.”

When she says it, it’s almost painfully obvious in the way she holds herself and the sad inflection that hints towards a lonely life. It pings in Shiro like her spirit connecting with one of its own.

“Yeah. I don’t think Shiro was either.” Or _is._

A sort of melancholy settles over them. Shiro wonders what it would have been like if Keith had revealed herself more back then. She’s sure they would have played together, maybe even talked, shared secrets. Maybe they would’ve become the kind of friends that Shiro thought she’d given up the hope of having. But with Keith sitting there beside her, her head still quietly bowed and thoughtful, Shiro feels a rising buzz beneath her skin.

“Would you…?” Keith breaks through their reverie. She tucks some hair behind her ear which twitches as she brushes past. Her gaze soft and bashful. “...Tell me about her?”

Shiro stares in disbelief. “Who, Shiro?”

It seems impossible. Shiro was nothing. Now that’s practically literal.

“Um, yeah.”

And Shiro has a hard enough time talking to Keith as a halfway functioning person, now she wants her to talk about _herself?_ “What do you want to know?” she asks with growing trepidation.

Keith’s nose scrunches thoughtfully when she hums. “What was she like at home? She was always so good to me when we talked.”

Shiro snorts before she can help it. “Good,” she repeats. There’s a bitterness there. A wound that’s not even begun to heal.

“Yes.” Keith says, watching Shiro closely. “Kind as well.”

_Kind,_ Shiro thinks. Always so perfectly good and kind. She makes a derisive sound and growls, “More like a pushover.”

“What?” Keith asks, clearly surprised.

But Shiro feels it all so suddenly and the words come rushing out without thought or filter. “Shiro just… does—” Shit. “ _Did_ everything she was ever told. She was always more concerned about keeping the peace or not upsetting anyone. Everyone mattered more than her. I mean, sometimes it wasn’t even _the right thing to do._ They just said jump and Shiro would do it.”

It’s everything she’s ever thought finally set free. Hurt and anger rising like a wave to crash at her feet. “She should’ve been better. _Stronger._ What Shiro really needed,” she spits, “was to grow a spine.”

When she’s done, she needs to heave a breath to center herself. The air from the garden cooling scorched lungs. She feels wild, untethered. And strangely relieved. Lighter maybe. Until she looks over and sees the shocked and glowered expression on Keith’s face.

“How can you say that?” Keith whispers. Dangerously quiet. She opens her mouth and then closes it. Glaring at Shiro with smouldering eyes. “I don’t think it’s weak to think of others. As rulers it's something we _have_ to do. It takes courage to set your own needs aside. Being selfless is not cowardly.”

Shiro reels in Keith’s fury. The woman before her hardly moves, had barely raised her voice at all but her message is clear. The passion that rolls from her is a formidable and awe-inspiring thing.

“I—I’m sorry,” she flounders. “I didn’t mean to— it’s just… complicated.”

Keith studies her silently and Shiro helplessly tries not to squirm. She stares at her for way too long to be comfortable, but Shiro finds that she can’t look away. There’s a spark and a fire that burns around Keith and chars her clothes. That roasts the tender, painful bits that Shiro just revealed and melts them down to nothing. 

Shiro stares back and takes a breath. “Could we maybe… try that again?”

Awful seconds tick away. The line of Keith’s mouth more severe than before, “...No.”

Shiro’s heart sinks. But then Keith shifts and the fire cools and her voice is far gentler when she says, “I shouldn’t have asked in the first place. Maybe instead, you could tell me about you?”

The idea is infinitely more daunting. “I’m, uh, not really all that exciting,” she hedges, rubbing absently at her arm but Keith simply waits, and it feels as if Shiro’s on the tip of a knife. One wrong move and she loses for good.

She knows she should tell Keith all the things that Ryou had liked. Like archery, and hunting. Or staring at himself in front of a mirror and reciting speech after speech until his inflection was perfect. But she can’t. It’s like a physical barrier blocking her tongue because when she replies it’s not about Ryou at all, it’s her. 

“I like space,” she blurts, then blushes, hard. Keith gives her nothing but a quirk of her brow and Shiro stumbles forward. “Just like everything about it, really. It’s vast and infinite and the sheer amount of life it contains… but then there’s also just like so much _space,_ you know? And have you ever heard of galactic cannibalism?”

Keith shakes her head.

“It’s a process where colliding galaxies absorb one another, or literally _eat_ each other. And when interstellar clouds collide, they can birth new stars. And then there’s nebulas— you can’t tell me that those aren’t cool. I remember the first time I saw the Quwillax Nebula when my family was travelling to Olkarion, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Shiro doesn’t even realize that she’s smiling until her cheeks ache with it. She drops her grin into something smaller. No less excited when she muses, “Ever since then I wanted to be a pilot, just to like float out there between the stars.” She looks over at Keith. “I dunno, I guess it’s silly. There’s more important things to do than drift across the universe.” 

In front of her Keith hums again, a grin flitting across her lips in what Shiro hopes is amusement. If anything, it’s leagues better than scorn. “I don’t think that’s silly at all.”

“You don’t?” Shiro asks.

“No. I also enjoy the stars.”

“Oh,” breathes Shiro.

Keith doesn’t offer anything else, but her energy’s definitely changed. More relaxed and maybe even leaning closer but Shiro can’t let herself think it. Instead Shiro watches a pair of nilnack’s flit from flower to flower behind her, their tiny bodies held aloft by massive wings.

“I like, um, reading too,” Shiro quietly continues. “Mostly about space but… other stuff as well.” She thinks she hears Keith chuckle. “Shiro, she liked all of those things too.”

She’s not sure why she says it. Why she’s suddenly filled with a need for Keith to know her. This is me; she wants to say. _Shiro,_ not Ryou. I’m the one you’re going to marry.

Keith looks at her and for a second it feels like she’s heard Shiro’s plea because her face is open and for the first time in Shiro’s presence a full and stunning smile crosses her face. “Sounds like maybe you two weren’t so complicated after all.”

Shiro smiles because she’s helpless beneath Keith’s radiance— would probably do anything to keep her like this always.

Inwardly she thinks, _if only._

****

Their wedding is set for three movements, which is longer than Shiro anticipated. Allura explains it’s to do with aligning their union to a cosmic event known as the _chelising_ which is supposed to be extremely auspicious and is sort of like a meteor shower but on a galaxy-wide scale. In actuality it’s part of a massive solar flare broken down into coronal mass ejections (glowing orbs of plasmic gas) so pressurized that they rain like meteors throughout the solar system. Shiro knows this because she looked it up the moment Allura mentioned it.

Keith and her had talked about the cosmos more that day in the garden. Had talked so long that the sun had set, and the royal guards were sent to find them. Shiro learned that Keith’s favourite things included white holes, cosmic rays and pretty much any phenomena that had yet to be explained by science. She also learned that Keith is a fully trained and licensed pilot because _of-fucking-course she is,_ and Shiro had questioned her nonstop after that. Shiro herself had been just about to enroll in Altea’s prestigious flight program when Ryou had passed away. At the time, she’d been too crushed in the aftermath to mourn the loss of her dream but eventually that heartbreak had been almost unbearable. Which is why, when Keith brings Shiro aboard her private ship and takes her for a ride, tears well up in Shiro's eyes. Soon though, Keith is barrel rolling out of the atmosphere and it’s difficult to tell if Shiro’s tears are from anguish, fear or exhilaration.

Keith’s ship is sleek and fast and incredible, much like the pilot herself. How she cradles the controls. The cocky look she gets as she maneuvers them through hurdles. Shiro burns beneath her flight suit and thanks the heavens that Galra being able to smell arousal is only a myth. She’s never seen Keith look so utterly at ease. Completely in her element and grinning sharp every time Shiro yelps at the fancy moves she pulls out of nowhere. They don’t stop for hours. Not until Shiro’s eyes start to cross at the blur of stars they speed around and Keith’s head of security has to hail them three times before they finally turn around.

They’re both giddy and laughing as they exit the landing and run almost headfirst into Allura and the Blade of Marmora head, Kolivan. He’s still a beast of a man but beside Allura he seems… gentler, maybe? Less severe, looking that’s for sure. Shiro supposes, it’s hard to be imposing when Allura is standing beside him and grinning like a loon.

“Have a pleasant ride?” she asks Shiro, her tone dripping with implication.

Shiro is flushed and knows that she looks it. Can see the same ruddy glow on Keith’s cheeks and in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says, not even bothering to feel embarrassed when she sighs, “Keith is amazing.” Beside her, Keith bows her head, about to murmur something contrary no doubt, but Shiro won’t have it. “She’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen.”

“Ryou,” Keith mutters, though Shiro can tell that she’s pleased.

Somewhere between now and their first meeting, Shiro had finally managed to convince Keith to drop the Prince title and it’s been infinitely better for Shiro’s nerves. Even if she wishes Keith could call her by her real name.

Kolivan crosses his arms, the wrap of his uniform stretched to its limits. “Do either of you know how many violations you just committed?” Eighteen. Shiro counted. “The next time you decide to go for a joyride,” he continues, “you _will_ follow proper procedure or I promise you Keith, I will finally see to your permanent grounding.”

They should probably feel bad for just up and leaving. Shiro — if she wants to earn the trust of this formidable man at all — should definitely at least apologize but she’s too excited at the mention of _next time_. She pushes her shoulder against Keith and whispers, “Hey, can you do that trick again? The one where you stall-turned into an inverted snap roll around our satellites. That was crazy!”

Kolivan’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. He drops his hands. “You what?!”

“Okay, yep!” Keith frantically hurries, grabbing on to Shiro’s arm and yanking her to make a run for it. “Next time. Will do!” She pulls at Shiro, forcing her to turn.

“Oh no you—” Kolivan thunders at the same time Allura cuts in in her calmest voice,

“—Oh Koli, give them a break just this once.”

Keith and Shiro stop in their tracks. Looks of shock passed between them before turning on the pair of advisors. Allura’s still beaming, her arm looped through one of Kolivan’s, who looks like— is that? _A blush?_

Neither of them dares to speak and Kolivan looks similarly lost. Allura strokes lightly over his arm before sliding down to grab his hand. She looks at Shiro and quietly mouths, _go,_ before winking and it’s lucky that Keith’s still with it enough to pull Shiro along because what exactly is happening?

They’re almost out of the bay before Kolivan finds his voice and they round the corner to, “Keith, we’ll talk about this later!” But the two of them are sprinting down the hall and don’t dare stop until they’re out of the palace and into the sun.

“Oh my god,” Shiro wheezes as she catches her breath just outside. She leans herself against the door. “Are they like… together?”

She almost can’t believe it. After all the shit Allura gave her about wanting Keith and acting like a fool that first night and all the while _she’d_ been making moves on the head of the Galran secret security? Oh… it was on.

Keith looks equally shell shocked. “Koli?” she whispers. “I have never heard anyone call him that.”

“Yeah,” Shiro snorts. “Cause he looks like he’d kill anyone that tried!”

Keith laughs at that. One of her genuine, musical laughs and Shiro’s heart constricts.

They lean beside each other at the door, Keith close enough that Shiro could reach out if she dared. The heat of Keith’s hand as she’d held Shiro’s arm still lingers. The weight of her fingers pressed into her flesh.

“I wasn’t exaggerating before,” Shiro says, hushed. “Your flying— it’s incredible.”

This time Keith smiles. Glancing up at Shiro through thick, fanning lashes. “Thank you. Maybe next time I’ll even let you fly.”

Shiro drops her jaw. Her experience is limited to only what she’s read. Keith knows this.

“What?” Keith asks at seeing her expression. “It’s honourable that you gave up your dream to study diplomacy—” At that, Shiro winces internally.

It wasn’t a total lie, she _had_ been forced to drop out of flight school so that she could be tutored in communications, political history and statesmanship. Until then she hadn’t been first in line for the crown after all. However, the better part of her training had actually been studying how to impersonate Ryou. How to speak and act and think like him. How to maintain her disguise for hours on end.

“—but Ryou, it shouldn’t mean you have to give it up entirely,” Keith finishes.

Allura had said something similar, though Shiro wouldn’t hear it. Back then it had felt like a poor consolation. A _‘hey Shiro, I know your life is over but maybe someday you’ll get to fly.’_

Somehow when Keith says it, it feels like a gift.

“That—” Shiro has to pause to reign herself in, to clear the catch in her voice. “I’d like that.” _Very much,_ she doesn’t say.

Keith’s hand twitches and Shiro wildly fantasizes that she might be about to touch her again, maybe reach to grab her hand. Instead she pushes off the wall, walking backwards with a grin and both of her ears pointing playfully forwards. “It’s a date then.”

****

The first time Shiro sees Keith train with the Blade of Marmora, she walks into a wall. She hits it hard and feels a crunch, but at least she can blame her nosebleed on that and not the fact that she burst a blood vessel just from seeing Keith sweaty and sparring in spandex.

Shiro works hard to string full sentences together around Keith which is altogether better and worse. Better, because they talk more— a lot, actually. Worse, because the more they talk the harder she falls.

And Keith is so easy to fall for.

She’s smart and witty and, when she gets comfortable, wickedly funny. There’s a dry humour about her that matches Shiro’s dark. Half the time Shiro’s not even sure she _is_ joking until Keith takes pity and smirks or winks. Both leave Shiro weak in the knees.

And even though she thinks she’s Ryou, Shiro can’t help but feel openly _seen._ The way Keith listens and watches. How she tilts her head when Shiro speaks like she’s some sort of puzzle she’s trying to sort. In just the short amount of time they’ve spent together, Shiro doesn’t think she’s ever felt so known in her entire life.

Shiro tries as much as she can not to lie to Keith. Only doing so if absolutely necessary. But everything she thinks and feels and talks to Keith about is one hundred percent her. When she makes Keith laugh or engage in conversation. When she notices Keith sitting closer to her than the day before. She did that. _Shiro did._

It’s a hot and possessive spark that simmers in her gut. It’s an ache and a chasm that yawns inside her with the fervent wish that things could be different. How bad would it be if Shiro revealed herself? How alliance-shattering? Was it so impossible to imagine that Keith might see her for who she really was and want to keep her anyway? She doesn’t know if Keith is even interested in Ryou like that, but she hasn’t yet shut him out and, for Shiro, that difference means everything.

So, she takes a chance. She finds Keith on a dreary afternoon, about a week from the wedding, and takes her to another one of Shiro’s sanctuaries. The Altean palace library.

Altean’s pride themselves on many things; their resilience, humanitarianism, and above all else, their knowledge. The library at the palace is their crowning achievement. Its large marble arches housing a vast and extensive collection in a room that spans the length of a small city.

Shiro spends much of her time here. Usually preferring to lose herself in the exploration of star charts and theoretical astrophysics. Other times she cozies into the plush leather armchairs in the history section and buries herself in stories of the universe’s past. She knows that Keith prefers action over research but hopes that she’ll appreciate the sharing of something so dear to her anyway. Keith’s sharp gasp as they enter the library is as good a start as any. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth dropped in a perfect ‘O’ as she gazes around the room.

At the moment, there’s hardly anyone around so Shiro doesn’t bother to lower her voice when she says, “It’s pretty cool right?”

Wordlessly Keith nods.

Shiro leads her through the winding staircases and stacks of books and displays. There’re collections on everything, literally everything that the Alteans could get ahold of. The alchemy section is by far the largest and there they do run into quite a few people. Keith asks Shiro if she’s ever dabbled but Shiro shakes her head.

“I’m definitely not gifted enough for that.”

Ryou hadn’t been either. Or anyone in Shiro’s immediate family though she knows Allura comes from a powerful line of alchemists. She’s actually surprised that her advisor’s not here but then Shiro supposes she might be off with _Koli,_ as both she and Keith have now dubbed him in private.

“Hmm, just gifted in other areas I think,” Keith replies with a secret little smile before walking ahead and leaving Shiro to gape at her.

She wants to ask what she means by _that_ but they’ve made it to the section Shiro’s been leading up to. 

The Altean library is also a bit of a museum of anthropology. Home to not only the study and history of Altea, but of all the planets in their solar system. Keith’s shoes skid on the floor as she suddenly halts and whips back to stare at Shiro, right in front of the room dedicated to Diabazaal. Smirking, Shiro nods her head for Keith to continue and intently watches as after a brief hesitation, Keith steps into the room.

The shelving here is full of artifacts. There’s a section on flora and fauna with dried specimens pressed behind glass. Maps of cities old and new displayed high on the walls. There’s even an area dedicated to culture with a place to sit and enjoy Galran music and cinema. 

Shiro watches with delight as Keith scarcely breathes, brushing her fingers along the shelves as she takes it all in. One might’ve said it was risky to bring Keith here. That maybe the reminder of a home she’s been so swiftly uprooted from would hurt more than help. But when all of this is over — the negotiations, the wedding — Keith will remain here and her kin will go home and Shiro can’t imagine anything lonelier than that.

As she gets closer to the armament, Shiro buzzes in place, knowing that weapons are one of Keith’s favourite topics. Just a few days ago, Keith had gone off about the lack of variety in Altean weapons, though she did admit that the broadsword was pretty badass. Her look had then turned far away when she began describing the Galran tr’kvn and dshaln, which Shiro had understood to be a type of materializing shield that maybe also turned into wings? Regardless, Keith’s excitement had been infectious and Shiro grins wide when Keith sucks in a breath.

Reverently, she rests her hands on top of a box housing a luxite dagger. Its purple insignia and shining blade glinting dangerously beneath the glass. Shiro had seen Keith’s knife fully realized that day that she’d sparred and thinks that the one in front of Keith now is a pale comparison.

“I didn’t know the palace had this,” Keith says quietly, looking up at Shiro in something like wonder.

Here, the lighting is darker. Covering Keith in a swath of soft light that leaves her eyes looking luminous. She turns them back to the blade.

“Do you… like it?” Shiro asks, holding her breath.

It almost seems as though Keith doesn’t hear her, so intent on the dagger Shiro wonders if maybe it calls to her. Some innate sense that all Blades possess perhaps. When Keith raises her head after a few silent beats, her smile is fond. “Yes, Ryou. Of course, I do.”

Shiro’s cheeks darken beneath that look. “Good. I’m glad.” She takes a breath. “Diabazaal’s section is actually smaller than all of the others. I was hoping that maybe you might want to add to it, after…” _our marriage_ gets stuck in her throat.

Keith hums in that thoughtful way she does, even as her grin stretches wider. “It is lacking. There’s no mention at all of the underground gatvrz that steals and eats our young.”

Shiro blanches. “Th-the gatvrz??” she splutters then catches Keith’s smirk before she goes off to peruse the books in the history section. “Oh, ha ha!” she says to Keith’s back.

There’s a faint little snort then Keith grabs a book and begins rifling through it. Shiro can barely read Galran but she thinks it’s something to do with social classes and systems. It causes Keith to furrow her brows like she’s fully absorbed but her ears swivel in Shiro’s direction as she gulps and shuffles closer.

“You know,” Shiro starts, just managing to control the shaking of her voice. “I’ve, um, never asked you how you feel about…” She waves her hand in her general direction. “... all of this.”

She purposely leaves it vague, _all of this_ could mean any number of things. Being in Altea, their arranged marriage, or — what Shiro is secretly asking — herself.

Putting her book down, Keith faces Shiro with brows still furrowed. “Is that why you’ve been acting strange?”

“I-I have?”

Keith steps forward and Shiro automatically jerks back. “Yes. And jumpy.” She moves again and Shiro has to force herself still.

Those eyes that penetrate fix upon her. Keith bites her lip and looks as though she chooses her words carefully before speaking.

“At first, I was against it. I don’t see the point in a political alliance finalized by forced marriage.”

Shiro wholeheartedly agrees and would say so if her heart wasn’t frozen in her chest.

“And then—” Keith looks away, wringing her hands together. “I worried… for I was—”

She cuts off abruptly and paces away. Not running from Shiro but clearly fighting with something. Her eyes roam the room and she’s restless. Her ears flatten tight to her head. Shiro yearns with barely contained need to comfort her and the only thing that stops her is knowing it wouldn’t be welcomed yet. When Keith stops, it’s in front of a picture. A weathered portrait of the first Emperor of Diabazaal and his family.

Her voice is unbearably fragile when she finally says, “I know that I am not ideal.”

_In what godforsaken world?_ Shiro thinks.

It actually baffles her that _anyone_ could look at the woman who stands before her — currently staring with the saddest eyes possible at the mother and child clutched tight between the Emperor's arms and thinking that no one could want her like that — and not see utter perfection.

“People look at me and see a loner. They hear of my rank and my family and think that I am something to be won or too much. Because of my training they assume that I’m hot-headed or too hard to handle.”

“I think it’s hot,” Shiro breathes, too caught up in Keith’s sorrow to stop herself from speaking the thought out loud.

Keith stutters for a moment. The deepening plum of her neck to burgundy the only indication Shiro’s been heard.

“But then I met you,” Keith whispers.

When she tears her eyes away from the picture to land on Shiro’s slack jawed face, a rush of blood so swift and forceful dizzies Shiro’s vision.

“When I’m with you,” Keith says. “I think that maybe… this marriage won’t be so bad after all.”

The spots that dance in Shiro’s eyes illuminate Keith’s pretty face. So stripped bare and naked that all her hope and, god _her trust,_ is plainly seen. She walks towards where Shiro’s glued in place. Taking slow and measured steps.

“Keith—” Shiro croaks. A thousand feelings flooding through her. Thrill. Desire. Guilt.

Hesitantly, Keith reaches out, so close to Shiro’s trembling form. Her swallow thick. Her eyes wanting. She touches her fingers to Shiro’s left arm, the pressure light and grazing.

Need moves Shiro into action. Grabbing Keith’s hand to gently pull it up to her chest. She cradles it tight to the space of her heart and fights not to press each knuckle up to her lips. She steps closer, her free hand moving to clutch Keith’s hip and thrills at her shallow intake of breath. All Shiro has to do is duck her head, to meet Keith as she starts to lean.

A sudden crash breaks through their moment, both of them jumping apart to find Allura struggling with the set of scales she’s just run into.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Allura apologizes, looking right and truly so. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Shiro looks back at Keith but she’s turned away. The blush of her neck spread to every part of her beautiful skin. It takes a moment for Shiro to process, to realize what she’d just been about to do. What _they_ had almost done together.

“I’m afraid I must steal the prince for a bit,” Allura pipes in when it’s clear that neither Keith nor Shiro are fit for words.

Shiro continues to stare at Keith. Watching the way she hides her embarrassment behind her bangs and feels too large for her tightened skin. “I—” Her voice is a scraped-out husk. “Okay.” Keith still doesn’t look up and Shiro thinks that’s maybe for the best. “I’ll, uh, see you later?” she asks.

“Yes,” Keith squeaks with a jerky nod.

When she flees the room, with Allura fast in tow, her mind is racing. Every thought, good and bad, assaulting her at once.

She’s on top of the world. Keith — tough, shy, soft, stunning, _Keith_ — wants her. Shiro had seen it plain as day, had heard it in the syllables of her softly speaking voice. Keith, who deserves the world and every good thing in it. Keith, who’s felt so alone and had to be brave for so, so long. A shooting star across the sky. A burning sun of eternal flame.

And yet… the further she walks, the further her thoughts turn dark and stormy because for every bit that Keith is wonderful, Shiro is lowlier than scum. A fraud who’s wormed herself under Keith’s thick skin with delusions of safety and trust. A con artist taking advantage of the heart of an angel for political gain and grandeur. And Shiro’s disgusted with all of it. With Altea and her family. With _herself_ most of all.

She thought knowing that Keith liked her too might somehow make it easier or better, but it doesn’t. Not at all.

Allura grabs Shiro’s arm as she almost stalks right past her office, soundlessly guiding her into the room and shutting the door while Shiro stares sightless out large bay windows. She used to think the view was pretty. At a perfect angle to catch the sparkling Truintak mountains lining a field of juniberries. Shiro had thought to bring Keith there but now…

“Don’t even say it,” Allura sighs, sounding worn and tired already.

Shiro snaps at her anyway. “Say what?”

_“Allura, I can’t do this.”_ Sitting at her desk, Allure gestures up at Shiro’s forehead. “I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, because I can’t!” Shiro explodes. She should maybe dial it back — it’s not Allura’s fault after all — but now that it’s out there she can’t swallow its ugliness. “Keith deserves better than this. _I deserve better than this_. I mean, has anyone thought about it? Like _reeeeally_ thought about it? I’m going to spend the rest of my life lying to her. Every single day!”

Shiro goes back to stalking. Up and down the length of the windows. Every glimpse of Altea and what it’s demanding a slap in the face. “Keith will find out, she’s not stupid. She’ll find out and she’ll end the alliance and then my life will be over.”

“Shiro,” Allura murmurs.

But Shiro’s not even being dramatic this time. “It will though! What’s even the point if Keith hates me?”

She shouldn’t even be surprised. Life has given her plenty of shit, but this, by far, feels like the worst. She used to think she’d be okay. Without friends, even without an _identity_ , Shiro was strong. Her family took everything they could from her, but not her spirit. And she knew this day was coming, that it was the entire reason she had to pretend. But she never thought it could be like this. Never once imagined that the mention of Keith would tear through her chest and eat at her very will to live.

Allura gets up from her desk. Blocking Shiro’s path so she has to stop pacing. She digs her hands into Shiro’s shoulders and looks into her eyes. “Shiro, stop. It’s going to be okay.”

Shiro balks and tries to shrug her off. “No, it won’t.”

But Allura grips her tight. “Yes, it will. I’ve been talking to Kolivan—”

“—You told him?!” Shiro’s aghast.

“No,” Allura says, “of course not. But Shiro, Keith cares for you. _A lot._ And Diabazaal needs this alliance as much as us. I think they would understand—”

“No!” Shiro cries. It’s outrageous to entertain the idea that anyone could overlook such a betrayal. “How could they ever trust us?”

Wars had been started over far less.

“Just give me some time. After the wedding we can go to your parents and finally talk some sense into them.”

Shiro snorts, but it’s a cruel thing. This is the Ryou incident all over again. Allura biding her time, waiting until she thinks the moment’s right just to be shot down once more. She may be determined, but now, Shiro thinks, she’s also foolish.

“They’ll see you and Keith and your love for each other and know the alliance won’t break.”

All at once, Shiro feels winded. Her sails deflated and horror in its place. There’s no way. “Keith doesn’t love me,” she breathes. 

“Please, I have eyes.” Ones that Allura does not roll. “She cares about you. Deeply.”

Shiro shakes her head. The room too small and suffocating under the watchful gaze of her delusional advisor. “No, she can’t.” Her heart shreds. “I don’t even exist.”

“That’s not true. Shiro—”

But Shiro’s already leaving. Allura left to shout after her but she refuses to stop— _can’t_ stop. It’s something she feels in her soul. Knowing with a certainty that Allura’s plans will never come true.

Keith doesn’t love _her._ Whatever they might or could’ve had will always be poisoned by Shiro’s lies.

That night Shiro curls up in Ryou’s bed and cries for what feels like forever.

****

The rest of the week passes by in a blur. In an act of pure cowardice, Shiro avoids Keith whenever she can. Just as terrified of seeing her as not. She can see the confusion in those bright violet eyes when she makes excuses — a fitting, or a last-minute meeting — but Keith doesn’t push it. Seems just as content to sit by her side at meals and take whatever Shiro will give. Impossibly — because Shiro was already feeling pretty fucking low — it makes her feel even worse.

She spends her days avoiding Allura and her parents too. Hiding out in little-used places around the palace like the third-floor closet in the western wing, home to mouth-eaten bed sheets that haven’t been used for probably millennia. How can it be that the world already feels emptier? That in just a few weeks the garden that Shiro so loved looks grey and lifeless without Keith beside her. Her chest aches to think of her. Her lungs left gasping for breath when she catches a glimpse and ducks out of sight.

Learning that the wedding was set to take place during the solar flare part of the chelising and not the actual shower itself would have been disappointing to the Shiro of three weeks ago, but now it seems fitting. Nothing about this wedding should be beautiful. When Keith inevitably learns the truth it will go down in history as a blight in the universe. A scourge and a heinous crime.

And yet it still comes for her.

On the day of the wedding, Shiro can’t breathe.

She’s marrying Keith in less than an hour and she can’t— _she cannot breathe._

Her lungs work and she gulps for air. Her hands shake. It takes so many tries to keep up her glamour that she’s certain it won’t last, but it does.

Because it’s Ryou’s wedding, not Shiro’s. It’s Ryou who stares at her in the mirror. Dressed in traditional Altean garb and preparing to take a wife. Shiro feels sick to her stomach. The nausea so close to bubbling free.

Ryou walks to the altar, parents at his side.

Ryou watches as his bride approaches.

Ryou takes her hands and says his vows and all the while Shiro’s trapped and screaming out to no one.

Parts of the wedding fragment into clarity while others pass by in obscurity. Shiro remembers how Keith looks when she enters the hall because time completely stands still.

She’s beautiful, always. Shiro once saw her first thing in the morning with her hair in knots and the scruff of her ears pointing every which way and all it had done was add to her beauty. Now though? Now she’s resplendent.

Her hair is woven in complicated braids. Hugging both sides of her head and falling into a twisted wave behind her. It’s a warrior’s style, reminiscent of Blades of old. Shiro thinks her gown is the same as it’s like nothing she’s ever seen. This is dark and polished and tight, cut low in the front and hugging her curves. She’s a weapon of deadly precision. A knife to Shiro’s butchered heart. But the look on her face is what goes for the kill.

When Shiro first met her, Keith was quiet and reserved. Since then she’s seen her pensive, laughing, mischievous. She’s seen the armour Keith wears, both physical and not, but she’s never seen it completely off. Not until now.

It hurts so much to look at. The beams of her smile like flying projectiles that pummel and pierce. Radiant doesn’t cover it, Keith is a deity onto her own. When her eyes land on Shiro it’s like the stars shining through after a storm, bright and glowing from within. It’s so easy for Shiro to forget. To greedily soak up all that Keith gives and think that it’s for her.

Shiro doesn’t dare look away. She holds Keith's eyes as the murmurs of hundreds of guests speak of her brilliance, but no one can see her like Shiro does. No one knows what it costs this woman to blossom. Unfurling with grace as she floats to the altar.

Vows are spoken. Heavy on Shiro’s tongue.

The ceremony is a mix of Galran and Altean traditions that Shiro recalls none of. All there is is Keith and guilt and pulsing, painful love.

And when Keith reaches for her it’s so unexpected that Shiro only guesses what’s happening because she’s been staring at her mouth for minutes. Keith licks her lips, a quirk to one corner, and then she’s moving. Hands sliding to Shiro’s shoulders. Cheeks red and rosy. Her lips plump in a firming press that rises to meet Shiro’s own and Shiro is stunned.

They’re soft and yielding. A gentle caress. The smell of Keith’s sweat and the taste of her skin engulfing her senses and drowning. All Shiro’s shame and her anguish washed down the drain and nothing has felt so _right_ as this.

Shiro lets herself fall. Forgets why she shouldn’t and pushes forward with eager abandon. She tangles her hand at the base of Keith’s head and cups her face, tenderly tilting until Keith gasps. With a parting of her lips, she welcomes Shiro into her embrace. Distantly, there’s a noise of disapproval that Shiro ignores in favour of licking at Keith’s sweet sounds. Kissing her deep and with longing escape.

Keith doesn’t stop her. Keith gives it back. Fingers clutching at Shiro’s clothes and her chest pressing hard against her sternum. They’re suspended in time. Braced on the edge.

And promptly pulled back when a booming voice declares their union and drags them apart to the cheers of the crowd.

Keith looks a mess, with wide, dark eyes and smeared rouge across swollen lips. The flush of Keith’s skin dips well past her neckline that shakes with a breathy inhale. Shiro stares and she _wants_ but the severity of what she’s just done hits with a force. Guilt returns tenfold. Her stomach bottoms out. They’re ushered down the aisle to shouts of congratulations. For Diabazaal. For Altea. For the joining of their planets and solidified alliance. 

It’s a struggle to make it through the feast and celebration. Rich food and richer smells turn Shiro’s stomach when all she wants is to heave her remorse in the nearest receptacle. Shiro spends most of it numb inside, barely able to plaster Ryou’s face with a smile that’s brittle as bone. With the smothering of the crowd around them and the heat from Keith’s body as she sticks close by, it’s a wonder Shiro doesn’t faint. In one small mercy, they manage to avoid Shiro’s parents but her father’s satisfied smile from across the room is a barb. She imagines actually speaking with him would be enough to break her.

Yet all too soon the dinner ends and Keith and Shiro are whisked away. Allura herself escorts them to their rooms. Bringing them to that western wing and to heavy wooden doors that open onto a suite so lavish Shiro wants to cry.

Altea’s first moon shines in through the tapestry, landing on their chests which are already filled to the brim.

“If everything is to both of your liking then I should be going,” Allura says after they’ve both had some time to look around.

Keith, who’d gone quiet on their way over, nods her head. A soft, “thank you, Allura,” falling from her lips.

But Shiro looks at Allura in panic. Keith is staring out the window, oblivious to Shiro’s stiff-lipped plea. _Don’t go,_ she mouths to Allura, _please._

They haven’t been alone tonight at all. While the sanctity of time away from all the noise was a haven that Shiro craved, she hadn’t wanted it like this.

Allura smiles sadly, pulling Shiro into her arms right before she leaves. “Have courage,” she whispers, which is laughable considering Shiro’s previous week of hiding.

Shiro’s pleading looks aren’t enough to keep her though and soon they’re left alone, a quiet click of the doors sealing them both inside. Shiro shifts and fidgets, unravelled nerves and mounting terror. At the window, Keith looks nervous too and Shiro prays that her guilt hasn’t been felt. Keith deserves none of it.

Clearing her throat, Shiro still thrills when Keith looks at her, double timing her traitorous heart. To be held and regarded in Keith’s gentle gaze soothing her even while it stings. “Did you, um, want to wash up?” Shiro asks, eager to be done with the day.

Keith shakes her head vigorously and a prickle of unease slides down Shiro’s spine. “You go first.”

Wordlessly, Shiro goes. Sequestering herself in the bathroom and running the water while her hands shake uncontrollably. She watches Ryou in the mirror perform her tasks, her eyes like dying liquid embers. Is this what her life will be? Pathetically hiding from her wife in the bathroom? God, _her wife._ It’s strange to want something so badly and yet possess it in all the wrong ways. Like she’s wrapped in wire with thick metal barbs that gouge her with every move.

When she summons the courage to exit, Keith is still at her spot by the window, but now with a bundle tucked under her arm. She startles when Shiro comes out. “Sorry,” Shiro apologizes. _For everything._ “It’s all yours.”

Awkwardly she stands near the door and gives Keith a smile that’s more like a grimace. Keith, who starts walking towards her, returns it with her own, unseasonably shy yet still so sweet. An odd combination beneath her commanding makeup. Her eyes lined in charcoal yet chewing her cheek and clutching tight to whatever she carries.

At the door, Shiro steps aside to let her by but Keith hesitates. Her chest rises on an intake of breath that Shiro feels blown across her cheek a moment before Keith’s lips replace it. It’s so quick and so unexpected that Shiro has no time to react before Keith is gone and the door shut tight behind her. Shiro stands stunned, her fingers slowly lifting to touch where Keith had just been.

Their frantic make out up on the altar had been full of heat and desperation, but the spreading warmth beneath her hand is something else entirely. It’s squishy and tender. The promise of a future that Keith and her can never have. Shiro groans and covers her face. Why did she have to kiss Keith like _that?_ The memory sizzles in her brain. The intensity, the passion. Shiro can’t possibly do this to Keith and live with herself but whenever she’s around her she doesn’t think at all. Not about reason or right and wrong. All there is is Keith.

Shiro throws herself onto their ridiculous bed — four poster and draped in silk — and squeezes her eyes closed. Her cheek tingles and her gut churns and she yanks back the covers to bury herself in blankets. When Keith comes out she’ll just have to keep her distance. It’s late after all, they’re both tired. And in the morning Shiro can talk to her, make up some excuse about wanting to take things slow. She knows it won’t last but it’s all she has so she clings.

Keith’s in the bathroom for so long that Shiro almost manages to calm her breathing before the door opens and the air in her lungs is stolen entirely. She shoots up from the bed — struck dumb and useless — for Keith is there in the doorway. Silhouetted in a glow of light from behind and her hair cascading in waves around her face. She’s not looking at Shiro but down and her body — Shiro gulps — her body is on display.

Even in Shiro’s wildest fantasies, she never imagined something like this. Gone is Keith’s gown, tight enough to be second skin, and in its place is practically nothing. A sheer fabric covers her torso, gossamer and reflecting silver bits of light when she shifts. It hangs from her shoulders in delicate straps that loop with lace and tie at the front but all of it is see through. So see-through that the dusky buds of her nipples push outwards. Beautifully dark and capping the swell of perky breasts that Shiro just knows will fit like a glove in the palm of her hand. Keith lifts her eyes, burning in violet, and starts to move.

With every step her lingerie sways, Shiro unable to even blink. All higher function aside from panting inaccessible.

“Do you… like it?” Keith asks but Shiro is speechless.

Keith moves until she’s directly in front of her. Soft skin and softer breath less than a scant few inches away. Fine hair covers her belly, turning coarse and dark the lower it goes until disappearing between muscled thighs. It’s all Shiro can do not to whimper. Her body stirs without thought, lost in a trance as she raises her hand to grab at the negligee and reel Keith in. Her fingers brush against Keith’s hip, warm beneath the feathered touch. Her palm itches. Her heart hammers. She thinks she utters Keith’s name with reverence.

Slowly, Shiro presses harder, cupping Keith’s hip and running her thumb along its crest. Covetously tracing the movement with her gaze. Keith leans into it. Sighing through her nose and whispering, “Ryou.”

It’s glacial water to Shiro’s dark fire. Smoke clearing from her eyes and burning her lungs as she sucks it down and throws herself from the bed. Keith stands five feet away, stupefied and lost.

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, clutching her chest. Her heart beneath it squeezing painfully.

Wildly, she looks about the room. The open door where Keith’s wedding dress lies discarded. The messed-up bed and Keith, with her mouth open and eyes so wide they look like saucers.

“I-I’m sorry,” Shiro stammers. “Fuck, I’m—” Stupid. Selfish. Worse than human garbage. “I’m so sorry.”

She rushes from the room and doesn’t look back.

****

In the end, she doesn’t go far. At first Shiro’d thought to simply run until her legs gave out and her lungs burst. Just to let them bleed out while she shrivels and dies in a juniberry bush with no one the wiser. Ironically, it’s the thought of Keith that stops her because somewhere between touching her inappropriately and running away, her mind had already decided to tell her the truth. It’s not even an option anymore, it’s necessity. The dirt Shiro feels buried under already flaking just a little.

But fuck, does she dread it. So much that she ends up pacing the hallways clear into dawn, rehearsing a speech that she knows she’ll forget the minute she sees Keith again. Nothing, she’s convinced, could feel worse than this.

As she picks her way back to their room, she’s careful to avoid anyone and everyone. Shiro’s always been terribly transparent, it’s why she never understood how her parents could force this on her when it was obvious how much it killed her. Running into Allura now would be just as bad. Allura has plans, sure, but Shiro can’t wait that long. Even if today is the day Keith strikes Shiro’s head from her body in rage, it’s better than waiting one second more.

She doesn’t even stop to take a steadying breath at the door. Just opens it up as quietly as she can and freezes to find Keith already up and wringing her hands at the window.

“Keith, I—” Words fail her already.

Keith’s mouth drops open at her arrival, her eyes rimmed red and her hair a nest of disaster. Mercifully, she’s changed from her lingerie and into loose fitting sleep clothes with stains and even a small hole at the hem. It’s possibly the worst Shiro’s ever seen her and still she’s glowing.

“Ryou,” she says, her voice croaky like she’s been up all night. “Are you okay?”

She looks at once relieved and heartbroken, shoulders rounding even as they slump. That Shiro put that look there would break her heart if it hadn’t already shattered last night. The name hardly matters now.

“Not really,” Shiro says, shocked that Keith could care about that at all. “There’s something I need to tell you—”

“No please,” Keith interrupts, lifting her hands, “I’d like to go first.”

It’s not easy to stand and be silent. Not when _I’m Shiro_ is poised on the tip of her tongue, but Keith looks so urgent it stalls her. Maybe she’s already figured it out. Maybe her guards are near and waiting.

“I want to apologize,” Keith says, frowning. “I should not have… acted as I did last night.” She’s close to the bed and slowly she sinks to it, like the weight of her words are too heavy to bear. “With the kiss, and at the library, I thought that maybe…” she shakes her head, her voice gone wispy. “It was stupid of me. I know this marriage is only political, it’s just that I—” She bites her lip and, to Shiro’s horror, her eyes start to glisten. “It won’t… happen again. I’m sorry.”

Of everything Shiro expected, it certainly wasn’t this. Keith hangs her head and Shiro’s rushing to her side where she kneels in front of her and grabs the blanket beside her hips, careful not to cage her in.

“Keith, no,” she says, agonized on Keith’s behalf. “You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s _me. I’m the one who’s sorry.”_ Her unsteady inhale rattles her throat, her fingers trembling where she clutches. “It’s—we’ve been—no, _I’ve_ been lying to you.”

At that Keith looks at her, a single tear pooled in the corner of her eye. Shiro longs to brush it from her lashes before Keith wants nothing to do with her but if she waits any longer she might lose her nerve. 

“Keith,” she starts, the words like helium rising between them. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Unable to hold Keith’s gaze she focuses on her hands splayed across the bed, concentrating until they begin to stretch and lengthen. Her clothes start to loosen around her shoulders and tighten uncomfortably at her hips. The hair that hangs in front of her face turns white against Ryou’s black. Keith gasps and Shiro feels it when her cheekbones lift higher.

“I’m not Ryou. I’m—”

“Shiro?” Keith breathes.

There’s shock in her voice. So much wavering shock Shiro worries she may have gone too far. But there’s also not yet revulsion. Shiro looks up and Keith’s white as the sheets beneath her. “But… how?”

Shiro starts at the beginning. “It was Ryou who died in that training accident, not me. My father, he didn’t want to lose the alliance — probably didn’t want to lose Ryou either — so he made us switch places. He—” It’s surprising that still, after all this time, Shiro chokes up just to think of it. Though admitting something like this aloud for the first time doesn’t help. “He told me that I had to, that Altea couldn’t survive on its own and I, I’m so sorry Keith, but I did it. This whole time it’s— it’s been me.”

Shiro hangs her head, too afraid to see the moment anger consumes Keith’s countenance. It’s the last time she’s going to feel Keith’s warmth and hear her voice. There’re a million things she wants to say but none of them win in their fight for dominance. Keith doesn’t need to hear spluttering excuses; she only needs the truth.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, trying to pour even an ounce of the breadth of her regret into it.

Keith’s quiet for so long that Shiro almost looks at her. Here kneeled before her and head bowed like an offering, Shiro waits for her swift retribution.

“So… all this time? You were just pretending…?”

“Yes,” Shiro breathes, each letter aching with sadness.

Keith’s hands, previously limp with shock in her lap, curl to wrap around her elbows. She hugs herself and hunches over. “Everything you said… every time you looked at me…” Keith chokes and Shiro’s eyes fly wide, realizing what she’d asked.

“No!” she shouts, startling both of them. She lowers her voice but she’s no less expressive. “No, that was me, I swear it. I only pretended to be Ryou in looks, the rest of it was always me. _I’m_ the space nerd, _I’m_ the one who thinks you’re amazing. Keith, I couldn’t lie to you like that, not when I—” she strangles on the word love, sure that it would make Keith sick to hear, but still she deserves something, “—not when you’re so special to me.”

Tears form in Shiro’s eyes and she tries to hold them back. It feels like losing a piece of her soul. Knowing when Keith leaves the best parts of her will die and slough away. She wants so badly to reach out, to show Keith just how much she needs her.

“You deserve so much better than this,” she says instead. “We can… have the marriage annulled then I’ll leave you alone.” Keith’s knife in her side would hurt less than this. “I’d... understand if you never want to see me again.”

In front of her, Keith shifts closer in the bedding then quickly pulls back, twisting Shiro’s heart with the aborted movement. “You’re really…?”

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers. “I’m Shiro.”

There’s a beat, and then it happens so fast Shiro’s sure that her life flashes before her eyes. One minute she’s grovelling at Keith’s feet and the next Keith is lunging for her. Shiro goes limp in her grasp, determined to let Keith strike her down without a fight but then Keith’s arms are wrapping around her, her face is tucking into the crook of her neck and Keith shakes and she doesn’t let go.

“Shiro,” she garbles, a hand twisting in the back of Shiro’s shirt. “I thought you were dead.”

Keith holds her fast against her, her voice projecting many things. Distress, hurt, pain, wonder. None of it sounds like anger. It’s second nature for Shiro to place her palms against Keith’s back. To tentatively stroke the length of her spine even as she’s thrown wildly out of her element with no idea what’s going on.

“Keith?” she tries, but Keith just burrows in closer.

Her heart beats fast where it’s pressed against Shiro. A matching rhythm to the way Shiro’s pounds in confusion. She’s still expecting a knife to slide through her ribs or the Blade of Marmora to burst through the door but as Keith continues to cling to her the only thing that happens is the rise of the sun slowly up through the window. Eventually Keith releases her but doesn’t go far. Just enough to look at Shiro and touch her face in tenderness and Shiro thinks that maybe Keith slayed her after all.

“I can’t believe it’s been you all along,” Keith whispers, and yeah, there’s definitely something brewing within her.

Shiro has to drop her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she swallows. “We can go to Allura and get this reversed, you don’t have to be stuck with me like this.”

Finally, Keith pulls back at that and Shiro doesn’t know whether to whimper or be relieved. Her eyebrows pinch together, that piercing look that’s arrested Shiro more times than she cares to recount sharply on her. “Yes,” she says after a moment. “I would like that.”

Shiro knew it, of course she did. Still, it stings enough to burn her eyes. “O-kay.”

“I don’t want to be married to Ryou,” Keith continues, bending to try and catch her gaze. “I want to be married to _you,_ Shiro.” 

Shiro whips her head so fast she almost crashes into her. “What?”

“Shiro,” Keith says, staring at her like she’s gone daft. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a kit.”

Stunned is not an accurate descriptor for what Shiro feels but it’s close. Truthfully, she feels a lot of things. “I — you — _what?!”_

Keith rolls her eyes, but she looks impossibly amused and maybe even fond. “You really didn’t know?” Shiro shakes her head. “I used to follow you everywhere.”

“I never knew,” Shiro whispers.

“I believe you,” Keith says, the hint of a fang poking through when she grins. “And I believe you when you say not everything between us has been a lie. These last few weeks, Shiro… it’s only made me love you more.”

“I love you too,” Shiro rushes to say. Her hands wrap beneath Keith’s arms to claw at the blades of her shoulders. “Keith, I love you so mu—”

The rest of her sentence gets lost when Keith pushes forward, bruising her lips against Shiro’s, but it takes just a second for Shiro to get with the program. Giving back her joy and relief in kiss after kiss. They’re nothing more than pecks at first. Shiro’s disbelieving laugh and Keith’s overexuberance make it impossible to do anything more. They get there though, Keith’s tongue sliding in and Shiro groaning into her mouth. It’s no less desperate than the day before. Each of them trying to swallow the other while Keith climbs into Shiro’s lap. Shiro pets Keith’s hair against her back in total adoration. Their mingling love the sweetest taste by far.

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, staying her hand on the back of Keith’s neck and resting their foreheads together. “You really want to marry me? After everything?”

Keith smiles and kisses her softly. Then dives back in for another. “Yeah Shiro,” she breathes when they finally break. “I really, _really_ do.”

****

Two days later, they get married for the second time. In the dead of night, when the chelising is in full effect with orbs of glowing gaseous masses shooting past Altea’s exosphere. The stars themselves are alive and dancing. 

They’d gone to Allura and Kolivan first, hoping they could devise a plan for telling their respective families. Thankfully, the two of them had already been together at the time. Unthankfully, Keith and Shiro were now more than a little scarred at the state of undress they found them in. Allura was happy though — not just for Keith and Shiro (for whom she literally cried tears of joy) — and Shiro could never fault her for that.

This time they’re in the garden, beneath the lights their bedroom overlooks. Hardly anyone is there, Shiro’s identity is still mostly a secret, but Shiro prefers it this way. Her parents eventually agreed to Diabazaal’s and Keith’s new demands in order to save the alliance, though at first her father had been furious. Shiro suspects it’s mostly from shame and embarrassment, for Empress Krolia had not hidden her disdain at Shiro’s treatment or their compounding lies. And Keith had made it abundantly clear that Shiro was never to live as Ryou again. After the wedding, they plan on relocating to Diabazaal. Her parents have asked for time to make the appropriate announcements, and honestly Shiro’s in no rush for that. Everything she’s ever wanted is currently holding her hands under a flowered archway and staring at Shiro like she’s the wonder and not the chelising.

They’re both dressed down in nothing more than streetwear, really. Shiro in comfy pants and a tight white tank top. Keith, a vision as always, in casual Marmoran tights and a soft flowing top. Shiro had tried to make a case for wedding attire, and made her feelings about Keith’s sultry wedding dress very well known, but in the end both of them had realized that what they really wanted was for this night to be for them. They didn’t want it to be about appearances, or the alliance, or what anyone else wanted them to be or do. This was for them and them alone.

Allura and Kolivan stand off to one side, Keith’s mother beside Shiro’s on the other. And in the centre of it all, Keith. With her eyes reflecting the falling cosmos and her smile so bright it's like she invited all three of Altea’s moons to join them. Shiro mirrors it, certain she hasn’t smiled this much since Ryou died. 

She’s still shocked that Keith could love her, despite how many times Keith tells her she’d been sick with guilt when she thought she was falling for Shiro’s brother. Shiro’s also humbled and honoured, and determined to spend the rest of her life proving to Keith and herself that she’s worthy of this love Keith so freely gives. Because Keith is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. A whole life and future that Shiro hadn’t dared to dream of. The past two days she’s been the first thing Shiro’s woken up to in the morning and the last thing she’s seen at night and if Shiro has her way that’s how it’ll stay forever. It doesn’t matter where they are: Diabazaal, Altea, floating somewhere in the far reaches of space when they take that trans-universal trip Keith’s promised her, complete with flying lessons. Shiro’s giddy with the possibilities. Hopelessly enamoured and so unbelievably lucky.

Keith barely makes it through the ceremony without blubbering. Shiro doesn’t.

When the time comes for _Shiro_ to kiss her blushing bride, she’s patient with it. Taking both her hands and cupping Keith’s face, sweeping along her perfect cheekbones and just… breathing her in. She’s pulled by her gravity, bumping her nose into Keith’s and curling her fingers through soft, dark hair. Smiling when Keith impatiently tries to nip at her.

“I love you,” Shiro says, grinning.

Beneath her hold Keith melts, covering Shiro’s hands with her own. “Shiro,” she whispers and that’s what does it. Shiro’s name uttered from Keith’s full lips at _their_ wedding and Shiro can’t stop herself from making this kiss as lewd as their first. Under a sky lit up with flames that burn maybe half as hot as they do.

Later, when they’re alone, Keith’s negligee makes a reappearance.

It starts much the same. Shiro, struck dumb and wanting. But after that, the night goes very differently.

**Author's Note:**

> If this was your prompt please let me know! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


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